Into the Hellmouth | Knights Obsidian

[Kurenai Yumi]

Objective: Matricide
Location: Lower Tunnels
Peoples Nearby: Razelle Breuner - [member="Nine Lives"]
Gear: Operator Class Armor-ACS-202 Vanquisher-Light-saber Yari

More sounds of combat echoed through the hallways as those coming in for the clean sweep advanced through the hall way, Kurenai as of the moment stuck to the ceiling as enemy troops ran by beneath her. It had seemed that every available fighter had be called to arms to defend the nest, a futile attempt to save themselves, in a sense those warriors simply running to their deaths. From her point of a view a honorable way to go, but Kurenai knew very few races shared the Atrsiain 'honor in death' sentimentality, not even Mando's and their battle centered culture carried that sense of fanaticism.

Leaping down from the roof she started to make her final run to the main web, the place where the hive mind queen would be located, no doubt guarded by the strongest fighters in the entire complex. Maybe an interesting challenge, maybe not only time would tell, and considering how fast the other knights where chewing through the defenses she may soon be finding herself with some friends.

Rounding the corner Kurenai came to face a rather large entrance, two rather intimidating garuds standing forward, each looking as if they could crush a mans skull with their bare... limbs? what would you call their arms again? I did not matter, they where road blocks that needed to be removed, and if such where elite guards they would fight to the death... though not like the other CIS personal present would let them live anyways.

Taking a sped forwards she grasped hold of the guards with the force, wrenching them from their posts with the strength of several Wookies, her blood orange blade coming to life once in arms reach. Two quick sliced being all it took to end their lives, bodies falling to the ground with a thump as Kurenai continued walking forwards like nothing had happened. The steady humm of her saber and heavy combat boots hitting the ground echoing through the large chamber.

 

[Cezar Alexandrescu]

Location: Hellmouth
Attention: [member="Katria Vekarr"], [member="Kurenai Yumi"], [member="Sor-Jan Xantha"], [member="Gerwald Lechner"], [member="Alwine Lechner"], [member="Rylan Kordel"] and others.
Outfit: Obsidian-type Strike Armor (The Look)
Gear: Mini-Gamorrean Axe and Two purple single sabers

Each step down the tunnel Cezar choose was a juggling act. At any given moment, one of three weapons she loved was flying through the air. The others were in hand being used to slice into her victims. What made it so much better in her mind, she was not at Secundus Ando, but she was really in the Spider Clan’s stronghold as her unit was forced to attack those witches. Everything in mind had been rolled back into that memory. To her, it was glorious.

Cezar was almost moving in the same ways as her memories. Being locked away in the moments, she had been taking some hits. However, it made her feel even more alive then of late. She was beaten and pushed into the belief that her true freedom came from winning every battle possible. Nothing could give it to her but a body count of her enemies that the clan aimed her. Even if she had escaped, was now a Knight Obsidian, and more did not lessen the fifteen years of having the clan’s mindset hammered into her skull.

Still moving forward, the knight was so lost on many levels. She actually wandered off into another tunnel and did not notice that. Her mind had entirely slipped down her own rabbit hole of memories. Sadly, she did not know that her hyperthymesia had triggered for her.

 

[Sor-Jan Xantha]

In Orbit: [ Star Destroyer Intervention | Multi-Vector Self-Propelled Battle Droid, Mk III ]​

Equipment: [ OM-P 376 | Paperweight | HoloLink | HoloBoy Advanced ]​

[ The Boy Who Sold The World ]​

​

​

This place was crawling.

As a pair of Hatch ran across the ceiling of the cavernous, multi-chambered cliff face in which the young Anzat had found himself, a pair of blue eyes peered from out of the shadows. The child's youthful face cast behind the shadow of the 376 blaster pistol that he held at the ready.

He paused a moment. He might have appeared to be listening, except his senses went a great deal further than so simple a description. Anzati were telepathic predators. They stalked their prey across mindfields. Adult Anzat were terrifying creatures, able to stalk their chosen prey across entire star systems. As a youngling, Sor-Jan couldn't do anything so daunting, but he could easily sweep the network of caves.

Slipping out from the crevice where he had taken cover, the small slicer made his way around the corner where the pair of Hatch guards had just come. Power cables were mounted along the walls, leading him toward what was going to either be a power transfer station or a server room of some kind. Either could be usable.

The cables stopped just before a door with a rather obnoxious looking cipher security lock.

Slipping the HoloBoy Advanced from out of his pocket, the boy connected a slicer chip to the base of the mobile datapad and then slid the other end into a slot on the lock.

Hatch security systems tended to favor quaternary equations, so the Anzat had taken the liberty to prepare several base-4 algorithms. As the randomizer worked its magic on the calculations, the boy looked up and down the passage.

There were several more Hatch approaching from the southeast.

Just as the shadows were cast along the wall, the lock rolled over red to green. The door slid out of the child's way and he slipped inside.

It shut behind him just as the Hatch guards were rounding the corner.

Surveying his surroundings, it appeared the Sor-Jan had stumbled upon a telecommunications closet. Returning the blaster to the holster slung across his thigh, the boy eyed the panels and connections that spider-webbed from the ceiling to the floor and then wall to wall.

It might take him a minute to figure out the best spot to plug in.

 

[Nine Lives]

The Arch Psy-Pire crawled along inner stronghold's ceiling cutting through the webbing with her tomahawk, having momentarily evaded some of the warriors now wielding ranged weapons like submachine guns. She stuck to the darkness, staying hidden as best she could, hearing the snarling and hissing spider people hunt for her below. These Harch were brutal. She wished she'd brought that neat little LK Sweeper she had used on Coruscant. The honor of her ancestors would be challenged if she spoke it out loud, but occasionally the whole screaming Vampire Warrior bit got a bit old. Some days you needed a razor, some days you needed a boot. A very big boot in this case, with thick soles so you wouldn't feel the gigantic spider's body collapse, giving little death squeals.

She was ashamed to admit it, but the Harch being naturally vampiric in a sense had made it too easy for her to engage them. And even though the blood of her ancestors, corrupted as it was, laughed under her skin at cutting loose, cutting into them, she felt the death fill the air...

It was yet one more reminder why she was no Jedi.

What was she contributing to the Galaxy except death? Shimada, her father, had killed for years on the battlefield. Decades. It had not ended well for him.

She felt the pangs once more of her lost honor. And yet...she still believed this was necessary. You needed a drastic show of force to project to your enemies. Especially with enemies like what The Confederacy had. Would Nine have ordered this extermination? Perhaps not. But she may have done something similar. Her Father had preferred disembowelment via Katana to enemy leaders.

Eventually, Nine found a crevice and recoiled at the flare of Dark power as she watched multiple Harch being pulled from defensive positions and sliced into pieces by a that same woman from that horrible city in fested with the living dead and-

...Riggs body hit the ground from deWinter's bullet.

She'd lost concentration, frozen on the wall as the gunshot echoed in her mind. She fell from the ceiling a long height, smacking into the floor and feeling her right shoulder dislocate. She got back up, popping it back into place with a grunt and--

...Riggs infected eyes stared from within.

She dropped her tomahawk, didn't see the Harch sneak up on her from behind, yelled as it leapt onto her and nicked her with something. A knife.

She felt like she had been smacked with a brick. She grew weak, barely throwing him off, he recovered.

While she still could, Nine, swooning, sweating, tossed the sword into the incoming Harch's chest like a spear. It collapsed, dead, and Nine fell to her knees, sweating underneath a now heavy armor. She felt rashes and blisters forming. She needed sleep, but this was not the place.

She stared at Kurenai. She rose up, staggering. This was a weak poison. She only felt like she had the beginning stages of malaria.

Nine sluggishly picked up her fallen axe, swooning as she began an unsteady lurch to follow Kurenai. Everything hurt. Perhaps it was the Force's punishment for killing so many. Not quite the bill she was expecting to pay, but it was better than real stuff.

Her armor felt heavy as she followed, belatedly watching out for Harch ambush.

 

[Amethyst Atreides]

Location: The Hellmouth
Attention: [member="Darth Tacitus"], Pupper Brigade, Objective Friends
Soundtrack: 2Cellos "Hysteria"
Post: 2


Trite as it might sound, Ascension had been a beginning for Amethyst. Where she’d found Kainan and embarked on path she hadn’t known was open to her, in spite of the time she’d spent on Dathomir and Ryloth. Discovering what she was and what she could become…to have so very many possibilities laid before her…it was almost too much to comprehend. But she’d come to terms with it and taken to the rapid series of changes as if born to them.

In a way, she had been. The gift of the Force had been the only worthwhile thing to come from her mother, and her years of growing to maturity in seclusion with only a bevy of tutors had afforded her the broad base of knowledge she now found so invaluable. Her first steps in Sith training under Kainan’s tutelage had proven difficult, but still pleasurable as her senses and abilities slowly woke from their years of dormancy.

Amethyst shook her head as her scattered thoughts returned the moment the ship touched down on Secundus Ando, fingers rising to trail through her long, dark locks. In that fleeting moment where the Overlord nodded to his assembled troops as he gave them a scrutinizing look, she gathered herself and ensured her lightsaber was clipped securely to her belt. It was not yet the extension of her hand and manifestation of her will that she hoped it soon would be, and as such, she vowed she would not disgrace Kainan’s gift with misuse.

Her senses swirled with dark anticipation as the ramp began to lower, and her free hand drifted to rest atop his gauntlet briefly. His kiss caught her by surprise but pleased her ever so much, and she returned it with equally intense fervor before they parted. Fingers traced the side of his helm as he secured it in place afterwards, and she strode down the ramp at his side.

Bolts of purest dark energy and a hail of blaster fire provided a melody to the battle as it unfolded. Ame breathed deeply as she stood still for several moments, dark eyes half lidded as she watched the vermin fall, one after the other. Still more burst forth from the ground, and though Nelvaan’s finest had things well in hand already, she felt the darkness tethered in her soul entice her forward.

Fingers clasped her power staff as she Jumped, a burst of the Force carrying her over the front line and into the midst of a group of the hive’s warriors. She landed with the grace of a dancer and brought the staff to bear upon those that now surrounded her with a flurry of gracefully violent blows. It was akin to an art form, the way she moved, her form going from maneuver to maneuver as if partaking in the intricate steps of a courtly dance.

Granted, it was a very violent dance that saw her soon surrounded by corpses with ichor dripping from the ends of her staff, but a dance nonetheless.

 

[Marek Starchaser]

The Obsidians had fallen far from where Marek figured they should be. Had he been the most perfect Force user? No. He wasn’t. He knew htat there was a light and a dark side, but that part didn’t mean anything to him. It wasn’t even a matter of what was right or wrong. But it could be the Starchaser blood coming in. A world needed to be checked and then it needed to be adjuted. That was what he was for. That was what the Obsidians and the Templar before them were for.

This new focus of leaving none alive? No. It wasn’t the Confederacy. The Force users in this organization were not the ones who were going to take over the galaxy. They were the ones who were going to protect their people no matter the cost.

The Alliance and Republic were wrong. Jedi should have been stepping in in a much more firm way. Obsidians performed the tasks to enhance the Confedercy and the Techno Union, and the Templar were much similar. Being used as a war team, that was disrespecting the people of the Confederacy.

“Find me Metus.” He spoke to the Hydra War Droid.

[member="Darth Metus"]

 

[Kainan Wolfe]

​

Gear: Wither (Sith Sword) | The Triad (Lightsabers) | Shrouded Blade (Lightsaber) | Shroud of Desolation (Armor)​

Troops: 72nd 'Death Guards' Infantry Regiment - 1 Squad (10 Soldiers) | Blackwatch Death Squad (10 Soldiers)​

Attn: [member="Amethyst Atreides"] | [member="Darth Metus"] | [member="Srina Talon"]​

​

• Ruling Nest
  Secundus Ando

She was a beauty to behold, the Overlord noted. A wild, ferocious beauty as swift and graceful in combat as a wild cat stalking her prey. He was proud of her, his Amethyst. Although her apprenticeship had only recently began, she had taken to it with the same passion and dedication that she did everything else and it showed. He made a mental note to teach her Vaapad, as the seventh form seemed well suited for her.

Gathering the swirling currents of the Force around him, he gave them purpose and direction, propelling himself into a leap that brought him by his lover's side. Using the momentum, he planted his foot down and pirouetted, his dreaded Sith sword swishing through the air and striking the flesh of a Spiveralda that was desperately scrambling to get away, the creature's hopes and dreams cut short by the Sith Lord's cold and terrible blade.

The dark currents shifted again, focusing, herded by the warlord's iron will as if by a slave driver's whip. Given no choice but to comply, they coalesced, blinking into existence in the form of a spear the color of blackest void. A weapon forged out of murder and hatred, given physical form by the Sith Lord's mastery of the Darkside.

Stepping forward, he dodged under the flailing limbs of a vermin, then gripped the spear tightly and thrust it forward, the unnatural weapon stabbing through the Spiveralda's weak form as if it cut through empty air. Allowing it to release only as much of its killing energy that it required to kill the pitifully weak vermin it had struck, Tacitus withdrew the weapon from the creature's corpse and threw it at another one of the vile, filthy insects, an unarmed civilian by the looks of it.

Combatant or no, the insect had been a traitor. And Tacitus showed no mercy to traitors. He would insure that they would all die here, today, leaving behind only a pile of battered, mangled corpses and the empty, broken halls of their home. A reminder, for all the other worlds and the galaxy itself, of what fate befell those who betrayed the Confederacy.

A series of quick hand signals told his troops what they needed to know. The war party changed direction, heading down towards the center of the nest, their ultimate objective being the web at its center. The Vicelord had commanded that none be left alive. And Tacitus intended to poison the very heart of this vile nest, burning and obliterating it with a storm of his unnatural black lightning until nothing remained but ashes. Although the more efficient strategy would have been to glass this nest from orbit, this was sending a more direct and terrifying message, one which said that no one was beyond the Confederacy's reach.

Around them, the soldiers fought and killed with silent, deadly efficiency, the barks of blaster fire only interrupted by the occasional dieing screech of a Spiveralda. Somewhere, a grenade was thrown, exploding in a deadly cloud of shrapnel that tore into the vile insects like a hungry swarm of bees. "Make sure to capture a few of them, for interrogation. We need to know who else supported them," the Overlord commanded his soldiers. "Slaughter the rest."

Today, the rebels would know true horror, their desperate struggle to live coming face to face with the futility of their resistance and the inevitability of their demise. Those who were lucky, would die by the soldiers' hands. The others would starve. And those who were captured, would be tortured, interrogated and then killed.

​

 

[Malok]

Marek.

The Sith prepared to take the plunge, but paused. As his Knights pushed forward to put down the Rebellion, a sensation tugged at the rear of his mind. It was the presence of one he had not felt in quite some time. Years. When last they had encountered one another, the young man was a rash Corellian with a taste for alcohol and spice. And, frankly, he was the same when they had departed. They only difference was that a bond had been formed between the two.

The Bond of Master and Apprentice.

Turning, Darth Metus faced the source of the sensation. [member="Marek Starchaser"] had come, no doubt hearing the call over the old channels. But there was no rallying to his side. No Hydras diving into the Hellmouth to put down their adversaries. There was distance. There was quiet. In this, the Sith decided to bridge the gap.

Reaching, he touched the comm affixed to his ear, growling an order across the channels. "Press the attack. Leave none standing."

And with his will reinforced, the Master went to find his Apprentice. His wrathful strides burned through the dirt until he found the Corellian accompanied by relics of the previous regime. He opened his arms wide, as if to receive his former charge in a distant embrace. "Marek, you've come." the beritone of his voice was, while wrathful given the battle, amicable to the man. For the moment. "Come. Let the Spiveralda taste that might of yours. Let them see the power you brought to Geonosis."

[member="Amethyst Atreides"] | [member="Srina Talon"] | [member="Darth Tacitus"] | [member="Marek Starchaser"] | [member="Nine Lives"] | [member="Sor-Jan Xantha"] | [member="Cezar Alexandrescu"] | [member="Kurenai Yumi"] | [member="Razelle Breuner"] | [member="Darth Rixas"] | [member="Rylan Kordel"] | [member="Anastasia Vi'dreya"] | [member="Katria Vekarr"] | [member="Gerwald Lechner"] | [member="Alwine Lechner"] | [member="Minerva Vessia"] | [member="Zhai'ellev"]​

 

[Cezar Alexandrescu]

Location: Hellmouth
Attention: [member="Katria Vekarr"], [member="Kurenai Yumi"], [member="Sor-Jan Xantha"], [member="Gerwald Lechner"], [member="Alwine Lechner"], [member="Rylan Kordel"], [member="Darth Metus"], [member="Amethyst Atreides"], [member="Srina Talon"], [member="Darth Tacitus"], [member="Nine Lives"], [member="Razelle Breuner"], [member="Darth Rixas"], [member="Anastasia Vi'dreya"], [member="Minerva Vessia"], [member=Zhai'ellev]
Outfit: Obsidian-type Strike Armor (The Look)
Gear: Mini-Gamorrean Axe and Two purple single sabers

They were not the Dathomirian Clan known as Spider Clan. The reality of the situation was not the same as Cezar’s one. As people handled the real thing, the Dathomirian knight was handling the same with a big twist. She was locked deeply away in her memory of her clan sending her group into the stronghold of the Spider Clan. They were all meant to die. At this moment, it could be view the same as the hordes kept climbing up to meet everyone.

Cezar had both sabers swinging in various ways. Striking at legs and bodies to cut a path through them, she even allowed herself say Peacean words that she hated to boost herself. The magic at times allowed her to charge up and shoulder bash into a creature so she could plunge her sabers into that one and the one it backed into. Other spells were throwing up walls to stop all the Harch from getting passed her. Each step she made, it took her deeper down the tunnel she had wandered into.

 

[Gerwald Lechner]

Location: Hellmouth
Attention: [member="Katria Vekarr"], [member="Kurenai Yumi"], [member="Sor-Jan Xantha"], [member="Alwine Lechner"], [member="Rylan Kordel"], [member="Cezar Alexandrescu"]


Gerwald nodded to his sister, and her friend before he rushed into the cave itself. Their target was the queen. While the other laid waist the rest of the best, Gerwald and those with him would make sure these things would be completely irradiated. His legs pushed his body as fast it could go without losing the others. A hand pulled his sword from its sheath.

He would have to get close.

The troopers which followed him took shots at the Queen, taking up cover at the mouth of the section of cave where she resided. The stench was overwhelming to the Lupine. A mental note was made that he was going to need some kind of nose plugs or filtration system built into his helmet that was better than the one he had now. It was clearly not made for a lupine’s sense of smell.

Charging at the Queen, Gerwald leaped at it, the cover fire allowing him to take it by surprise. The blade plunged into one of the two larger eyes it had, the other six smaller ones two guarded. The queen through Gerwald off, tossing him against the cave as if he were nothing but a rag wall. Another Knight would have to make the next run, if it was weak. One more well placed jab would kill it. Gerwald was certain.

 

[Marek Starchaser]

It wasn’t some moment he was looking forward to, but the Confederacy was not doing what it used to. And Marek was there for may iterations of this government. Probably more involved with the various sequences of this neutral superpower than the writer was with the Alliance. It was interesting how it worked. But from the voids of space, and more honestly, the champagne room in a casino chain, Marek Starchaser had come home to roost.

The droids were out ahead of him and mapping the area. Hydra War Droids had that one lovely ability to spider into other droids nearby and link up their visuals and scanning tools. And the droids were feeding that data right into Marek’s armor. The Former Templar and Obsidian Order Knight was very interested in what was going on around them.

More calls came to fully remove the rebellion.

That was not what the Confederacy stood for. Not the version he knew.

Finally locating his former Master, the student grinned. “Darth Metus. Surprised with you.” The Corellian shook his head, and looked around. “Is this the new school of thought of the Confederacy? Removing any threat? Rather than finding a way to make them feel accepted, welcome? To understand their approach. Geonosis was a war. We were fighting for our survival, this is a petty argument.”

[member="Darth Metus"]

 

[Malok]

Though there were many, [member="Marek Starchaser"] was the first.

As a much younger Darth Metus discovered himself and his place within the Darkness, the Corellian was taken under his wing. They grew, together, and forged a bond of brotherhood...and booze. When the whole Galaxy turned its back on the Sith and there were few havens for him to seek, Marek was among them. There was always room for him aboard his spice cruises, always a couch with his name on it. No matter what happened - to this day even - Darth Metus believed that Marek would always have his back. And the same went for his Apprentice.

But in this, they for the first time were...misaligned. Instead of shattering the earth with the tempest of his might, the Corellian began to question his former Master. He challenged Darth Metus' approach to the rebellion under their feet, citing the ways of old.

He thrust a finger in the direction of the Hellmouth.

"They first lured us into a trap." he growled. "Intoxicated and captured our best and brightest - myself included. Subjected us to a special kind of Hell. And when those responsible were removed, this world joined in peace. We forgave, we forgot, and there was peace."

"But now, they Rebel underneath our very feet. They have attacked our people, stolen arms and assets. What else would I call this but a war? The blood of our people - of my people - is on their hands."

"And it will be repaid. This Rebellion will be put down and peace will return."

He took a step closer to the Corellian.

"Our cause is just, you will see. And this Confederacy of mine is born out of the mistakes of its predecessors. This is the Final Shape, a nation perfect. Stand with me, and I will show you how we succeed where the others failed."

[member="Marek Starchaser"]

 

[Nine Lives]

Nine kept close to [member="Kurenai Yumi"] as she battled the mild poison. She was fortunate she had only gotten a scratch...but she felt pain everywhere, felt slick and sweaty in her armor. Her movements were sluggish and weak, and she heard the hisses of the Harch behind them. She wanted rest, but to stop now was death.

"They're close..." Nine warned the porcelain colored woman, Nine disturbed by how almost perfect her features were.

The snarls and hisses grew louder as Nine went further. The sensation of the Hive Queen being injured reached her, but barely. She was more concerned about the Harch following them. She pulled out her axe, forcing herself to focus, fueled by a need to end this. Her katana was drawn shortly after. The Harch could come from anywhere.

Nine's fears were proven right when a mass of Harch came from above, crawling along the walls of the chasm above.

Fighting the sluggish thoughts as the hissing Harch with their swords descended, Nine stood between them and Kurenai.

"Kill the damn thing..." she said to the vampire. "I'll hold them off..."

As the Harch gave war cries and rushed forward, Nine forced her mind to strain as her sword pointed to the ground.

"Mother Nature..." Nine hissed in pain when they were nearly upon her. "A twist of flame speeds toward my foes..."

A small gout of spinning flame flared up at the last second and rushed ahead of her towards the Harch as they sprinted. The most clustered caught the flames, and Nine lurched forward with a sickening determination in her lurch as the burning, screaming Harch ran around, some dropping after a few seconds of flailing around. The ones only still partly on fire fanatically rushed her, and Nine barely managed to evade a blow, let alone parry in her weakened state, so she twisted and backpedaled out of attacks, only striking when the Harch warriors left themselves open during an attack. One raised his arms at just the wrong time and was split at the belly by her Katana, sharper than a razor. Another swung to hard and she simply let his strike go clear and the ran him through from the side. One nicked her in the back thigh however and she yelled as she barely dodge-rolled out of the next strike, retaliating when she tossed her tomahawk into his face, only to yell when another dying, completely on fire Harch managed to slash her left arm, biting deep as the blade passed.

She backed off from the other, advancing Harch. Suddenly she remembered she was a Psy-Pire. As the mother of her children, she had one exceptionally useful gift. Which was good, as she was still feeling very very sick and could barely fight at this point.

She threw her voice behind the eight Harch left, mimicking a rancor's roar. The startled beasts wheeled around in surprise save for two and Nine lurched forward with as much speed as she could, slicing into them, even as she felt like she was going to throw up. Harch screamed as her edge bit into them, limbs and blood flying everywhere as their momentary distraction cost them everything.

Nine could not celebrate, as seven more dropped down. Some holding axes. Nine screamed a war cry in challenge and went into guard, despite being sick as a dog...

 

[Marek Starchaser]

The Hydra War Droids were great for what they did. And Marek was of the mind that a droid army was going to be the best move for the galaxy. Using clones, or enlisted men and women? That caused a lot of useless death. People who could be producing goods for the Confederacy, the former Techno Union and related companies. What he wanted were more patrons to his casino and resorts. The man was ready to step back into the limelight a bit.

And fight for what he thought the Confederacy could do. “A trap, yes. But the Confederacy needs to be ready for that. The right people in the right places. Know to call a strike down, surgically. Eliminating the threat.” And showing the full might of what the technological terror of the independent systems could do.

“The Rebels know they can’t fight and win. Its about sending a message. Send one back.” The Dark side was here, and Marek was fine with that. He was fine with the light side. He was going to do his best to win this day, but the sheer elimination of everything? That was not going to help the Confederacy one bit.

“You are dealing the way a SIth deals. It won’t allow the Confederacy to stand. Rule as a Confederate.”

[member="Darth Metus"]

 

[Kurenai Yumi]

Objective: Matricide
Location: Lower Tunnels
Peoples Nearby: [member="Nine Lives"]
Gear: Operator Class Armor-ACS-202 Vanquisher-Light-saber Yari

Kurenai had to contemplate what to do with the queen that sat in front of her, to kill straight away, bring to Metus or just keep an eye on until others arrived. Though like always such a decision was made for her as some man ([member="Gerwald Lechner"]) leading a squadron of troopers blasted in, the man lunging for the queen without hesitation, leaving Kurenai just to sit back and watch as they group advanced, taking down anything within a few meters. How she had not sensed them did raise a question, but once more Kurenai did not have time to think about it as Nine lives suddenly appeared beside her, wounded and slumbering, a sense of danger creeping up on the two.

"Close, well yes, I bet they can sense their queen in danger", after all no matter how sentient they people of this planet became, they where still driven by instance, and the survival of the nest depended on the queen. The small window of respite came to a halt as Nine Lives suddenly swept around, taking on a group of new fores that fell from the ceiling, the woman's spouting something Kurenai did not quit understand. "Kill what? the queen? I think those people over their have it under control". Actually for all she knew the new guy and his squad had killed the queen and these buggers where just putting up one final resistance. Regardless she had to move as a sudden flare of magically induced fire came from around the wounded but still powerful Atrisan woman, bunring everything quite easily, what ever the nest was made out of being decently flammable.

"She is quiet the crazy person... should I help"? There where only 8 left, well 6 since sh had sliced though two, at this point there was not much reason for her to even engage. Nine would have easily finished off the remaining fighters before Kurenai could raise a hand, and the newcomers had the queen already dead, besides the few stragglers left this fight was more or less over, and if her suspicions of Nine was right they could heal themselves just fine. "Guess I'll go on a smoke break while everyone riles down".

 

[Nine Lives]

Despite the mild poisoning, and the fact that nearly everything in front of her was on fire, Nine felt strangely alive as she dodged the sword swings of the Harch reinforcements, slowly and with a crudeness that bordered on the comical from the hissing, screaming Harch warriors. Her Katana, slick and dripping with Harch blood barely met the twin slashes of two swords, her own blade being driven against the shouldet, only her five centuries as a master of the Katana keeping her alive as she crudely shimmied to the side of the oncoming force, her axe biting into the side of his head, as she let him stumble forward a bit, her Force Sense prickling as she barely detected two incoming stabs from two different directions. She leaned out of the way of one stab, even as she barely parried the other with her katana, guiding it by brute, animal strength, fighting the effects of the mild poison all the while, into the direction of another rushing her, tumbling over to avoid the vicious hacks of three others. One tried to tackle her on the ground but she kicked him into the burning parts of the nest, where he caught fire easily and started thrashing about, screaming.

She rolled out of the way of an attempt to cut her head off, only getting her shoulder nicked and hurling the tomahawk into his face, watching as the spider had just enough time to register what was coming, its fangs starting to twitch in terror as the axe collapsed the center of its head, sending blood squirting everywhere, onto her, and to the other Harch, one of whom slipped on the spilled blood and fell backward as he too tried to rush in and stab her, only to launch herself with a strength that was fast fading, tackling him into his comrade with a shout, the joy of her ancestors at extreme, nauseating levels of bloodshed coursing through her. Her Katana slammed violently through both of them, sending the still screaming warriors into a pile of Harch she had set on fire earlier, and they also caught fire. She saw one trying to sneak up from behind out of the corner of her eye. When he brought his sword down to cut open her back, Nine wrenched the katana from two impaled victims, slamming the hilt right into its face, which caved violently at the forehead as Nine continued to bash the bottom of the hilt violently into its face, before finally decapitating it and holding the head out to the other Harch fighters. Her ancestors would have dubbed this a "Glorious Deathblow".

The Harch, at last, staring at the completely bloodsoaked Knight Obsidian, just one of the many, many terrible spectres that [member="Darth Metus"] had let loose this night, like an evil shadow addicted only to bloodshed, and finally fled into the tunnels from her, hoping in vain that anywhere from her was a way to avoid death.

Nine collapsed to her knees, breathing hard as she stared at [member="Kurenai Yumi"], puling off the strange visor the armor had come with. Her nose was immediately assaulted with the smells of gore and fire, that urge to vomit made so much worse by the poison.

"And I thought they smelled bad...on the outside..." she breathed, pulling her axe out of the Harch corpse.

She had shed blood as a knight again. And as shameful as it was to admit it...she had felt purpose in this act of butchery. Maybe it was all she was good for...

But she had a different vision of her future, one where acts like this, while still necessary, took a backseat to other measures. She questioned whether or not that was why she had done this...maybe it was necessary to see why war was so tempting to begin with. To see what it could get you...

Nine looked at the dead Harch and concluded that what war had gotten them was simple:

Absolutely nothing.